


Who's the Enlightened One Now?

by Quills_For_Wings



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A bit sad, Gen, I might be a monster, Not a one-shot this time around, Young!Papyrus, Young!Sans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quills_For_Wings/pseuds/Quills_For_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans is by nature an inquisitive and knowledge-hungry skeleton. He wants to know what the thousands of books in the library can tell him. He wants to know the latest price hikes in the grocery store he works in. He is tempted to know what the young reptilian monster recently hanging out in the library can tell him...</p><p>Some of the knowledge he learns, though, is trivial at best...and depressing at worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Big Brother Duties

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the sequel to 'Slowly, Then All At Once'!!! This is the aforementioned story in another character's POV, though, so reading the other fic is optional, but more fun if I say so myself XD
> 
> The first chapter is quite short for my standards, though, so the next time I update, it'll be TWO chapters.

Sans didn’t want to be in the healer’s office. He wasn’t injured or sick or anything—the last time he had a cold was when he was about his younger brother’s age, and that was a long time ago—so he really had no legitimate excuse to subject himself to such inconvenience. However, the visit wasn’t about him—it was about Papyrus. Sans was willing to throw himself down a volcano for the little bone.

“As you requested, I’ve been observing Papyrus for quite a while,” said Dr. Alphone. “He’s very healthy and quite tall for his age already, so on the outside he doesn’t seem to be in any mess, but I’m glad you’re an intuitive fellow.”

Before, Sans didn’t think that he’d want his eye sockets to widen in response to anything; now, he wished he had at least some muscles to make it _seem_ possible. “Why? Did you notice anything with Pap?”

“Nothing too serious, mind you,” Dr. Alphone replied. “It’s just…the kid needs your company, especially at such a young age, and especially since you’re the only one who’s even seen your mother.”

With a cold shudder, Sans could only remember his mother, who had died just after giving birth to Papyrus. He could only remember the terrifying sounds from his parents’ room, the fury in his father’s eyes before he left and never returned, and the way his mother spent her final moments holding her newborn skeleton in her cold, pale hands.

Sans had promised his fading mother that he would care for little Papyrus like he was his Asgore-forsaken lifeline. He had seen the female skeleton's bone crumble into fine powder, now only a sign that there was once a mother on the ground. He had vowed to the mound of off-white ashes while he clutched a sleeping bundle of bones, who was at that time oblivious to everything. 

Dr. Alphone’s next words brought Sans back to reality. “With your busy work life—grocer, assistant librarian, and comedian—it’s not hard to figure out that Papyrus is a very lonely boy. Not lonely in the sense that he hasn’t any friends—lonely in the sense that he needs you with him. He can’t exactly tell his friends all his fears, right?”

When Sans still wouldn’t speak, the doctor firmly told him, “I recommend giving him a diary, if you absolutely can’t change your routine. At least give him a way to express his feelings, for Asgore’s sake.”

That was how Sans bought a flashy orange-and-blue journal from the grocery store he worked in.

He hid it quite expertly from the notoriously clever Papyrus. Even the “great and awesome Papyrus” would never suspect a stack of fluffy blankets to cover a shiny little notebook. The energetic ball of calcium never even suspected a thing as Sans tucked him in for the night.

It just made the whole surprise thing better.

“I’ve been quite busy these days, Pap,” he said gently as he handed the book to Papyrus the following morning, “and I might not be here all the time to be with you. Just write your thoughts here, but if I’m here then you can just tell me.”

The way Papyrus looked at the diary then at Sans with those innocent eye sockets just made the older skeleton’s nonexistent heart melt. The way Papyrus suddenly tossed the diary onto his bed and wrapped his literally bony arms around Sans was enough for the older bloke, but of course enough wasn’t enough for Pap.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH!” he shouted right beside San’s ear. “Now I have a portable buddy, nyeh-hehehe—but you’re still my best buddybro, because you’re magic.”

As Sans prepared breakfast later, and as some oil splattered onto the countertop and onto his ulna, he wished that Papyrus would never change. At all. Ever. 


	2. Chapter Two

Today, Sans was juggling the role of a brother and a tutor. One part of him swelled with pride as little Papyrus released some pretty gnarly blasters; another, more logical, more calculating part of him knew that Sans himself had done better blasters at that age, and that Papyrus’ could be better.

It was hard to criticize Papyrus, however, without causing the slightest twinge of hurt to appear.

“They look pretty awesome, Paps,” Sans began gently, hoping that maybe he can get better at this teaching thing, “but you should make them stronger, so they can be useful in actual battle.”

Thankfully, Papyrus didn’t seem to take it badly—just in stride, as always. However, there was this innocence in him that made Sans break—again. “Actual battle?” he said, his eye sockets seemingly wider than usual. “Then I don’t want to have stronger blasters, because they’ll hurt people.”

Sans sometimes wished that Papyrus wasn’t born such an angel—it made him guilty of having to train him necessary violence. The older skeleton sighed and smiled lopsidedly. “You’ll understand, Paps. I don’t expect you to understand right now.”

He slightly suspected that Papyrus might not want to understand so forever. “So…how about another round?” he suggested.

Once again, Papyrus jumped with excitement. “Sure! Now I can beat ya—nyeh-hehehehehe!”

Sans tried to go easy on his brother—he really tried. However, he had reached a point that even his weakest blasters could cause some sort of damage—how much, he didn’t remember anymore. Nevertheless, Sans strived to toss his blasters a little to the side, only letting one, miniscule blast graze by Papyrus’ shoulder.

He still won though—weird.                    

“You still did well, buddy,” he told Papyrus as soon as the latter got out of the snow. With a slap to the shoulder blades, Sans added, “A few more practices and you’ll be just as good as I am.”

Papyrus gave him a wide, literally toothy grin—even if he seemed to be always wearing one, but whatever, affection was appreciated all the same. The two brothers entered their quaint home, and all was well for the day.

*-*-*-*

“It looks like melted bone with pieces of flesh.”

For the innocent child he truly was, Papyrus knew how to be morbid and blunt when it was about a certain topic, which was almost always his favorite food.

Sans looked at the pot of sauce boiling on the stovetop. “Eh, it’s how it’s supposed to be.” He took a teaspoon and spooned out a good amount. “Here, taste it.”

Papyrus pulled a face, but he did taste the weird sauce before making another face. “I prefer red spaghetti sauce, Sans.”

“Too late for that.” Sans laughed heartily and poured the sauce over the prepared pasta. “But we can just have red sauce tomorrow if you want.”

Papyrus hesitantly looked at the white spaghetti, but he eventually relented, on the condition that only red spaghetti be cooked from now on. Sans was relieved—and a bit weirded out by the new concoction after all.


	3. Chapter 3

When Papyrus was tucked into bed, at around eight in the evening, Sans quietly slipped out the house and into his usual haunt, Grillby’s.

No one was surprised with his arrival. Sans had been frequenting the bar ever since he could, ever since he had to tuck his little brother in by himself. Grillby, the bar owner literally on fire, welcomed him in and asked him his order.

“Come on, Grillby,” muttered Sans. “You know my usual order.”

“Two bottles of ketchup, and on your tab?” drawled out the fire monster’s red bird translator, evidently bored of his patron’s repetitive order. “Isn’t kid raising more tiring than what ketchup can solve?”

Sans wished he could raise his eyebrows like what humans allegedly could do—he definitely would if he could. “Papyrus is like a hound, Grillby. He’ll smell the alcohol off me right away.” After a long pause, Sans added, “I don’t want him to sneak here during the night as well.”

Another pause, as though Grillby was saying something to his translator. “Typical older brother, but I’ll add a shot of firescotch on the house in those bottles. Your bro won’t smell that in all the ketchup.”

Before Sans could protest, Grillby went off to prepare the drinks, only to return moments later with them.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” chirped out the red bird, “I’d think you were a father instead of a brother.”

Sans was unnerved at such a remark, but he silently chugged down the two bottles. He thought that he accepted the fact quite well, but it still hurt when he had to confront it directly. As the slight traces of firescotch burned his metaphorical throat, Sans wondered if this was going to be his life.

“Uh, can you actually add some more shots of firescotch here?” he requested.

**--**--**--**--**

“I didn’t know you had wine here, Sans.”

Papyrus’ first words of the day startled Sans more than it should have. The older skeleton accidentally knocked more pepper into the spaghetti sauce in surprise. “How can you say so, huh?”

Papyrus stared at Sans like the latter had sprouted another bony skull. “You’ve been holding your skull like it’s the heaviest thing ever, but I haven’t ‘pestered’ you yet and you haven’t gone to work yet. Mr. Slime said that headaches in the morning can be because of a hangover from drinking wine the night before.”

Sans tried his best to keep his hands off his skull and tried to grin at Papyrus. “I don’t drink wine, Papyrus,” he lied smoothly. “I just had a lot of things to do last night.”

_Argh, I never knew that I could get hangover from that sort of stuff._

“Okay,” Papyrus replied, and he no longer pursued the matter.

**--**--**--**

The Slime family was a pretty amicable family, and they welcomed the two skeleton brothers right away. However, just seconds after entering, Sans noticed Papyrus dart out with the Slime children. He could hear brother’s complaints of being assigned a human role in their game.

“Typical kids,” muttered Mr. Slime with a chuckle. “It’s like humans are scary.”

Sans really wished he had all those human face muscles. “Aren’t they, really?”

Mr. Slime was the second person to look at Sans like the latter had grown another head. “Sure, when they’re big and strong and trained for war and whatever, but the ones that don’t are mostly at our mercy once they’re here.”

Sans nodded grimly. He remembered encountering a number of human children before, and Mr. Slime was unfortunately correct. He would’ve been more comfortable had he never known how those children disappeared, but alas, he knew, and it made him squirm in his seat.

 

 


End file.
